


Don't Bother with Apologies

by a_novel_idea



Series: The One In Which Nothing Is Normal, Family Is Considered, And Clint Could Be More Bird-Like Than Anyone First Thought, But Really Only Has A Tendancy To Nest [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Family, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nesting, Recovery, Romance, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-05 14:57:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_novel_idea/pseuds/a_novel_idea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton is not a morning person, and no one bothered to inform Tony Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Beginning Breakfast was Served with a Side of Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this will be the one that was originally going to be the last one, if that makes any sense. Anyway, it doesn't actually have to so you should skip this and go on to read the main body, then the notes at the end!

Clint Barton is not a morning person.

This is not a secret amongst SHEILD agents, and is, in fact, part of the general information given out to new recruits. When Clint first joins SHEILD, some of the more seasoned agents find it funny to mess with him before he's had his morning coffee. He puts up with it because, hey, he's the new guy and he knows the hazing will eventually wear off. Then someone gets the bright idea to mess _with_ his morning coffee. He doesn't notice because Agent Dumbass spiked the entire pot with chocolate milk. _Milk._ It is a less known fact that Clint Barton is severely lactose intolerant. 

When he's done throwing up his guts three hours later, Clint spends the next two days doing what he does best: watching. He watches the break room, where this mess all started. He watches who comes and goes, who sits with who, who drinks what. The afternoon of the second day, Clint is watching from an air vent when an agent walk is. The agent is familiar; Clint doesn't know his name, but he's caused enough trouble for Clint that the sniper will always know his face. He's a tall man, big but in a broad way, and nice looking, blonde hair and blue eyes. He sits down at a table with his usual crowd and asks if anyone has seen the newest kid, what's his name? Barton? Clint listens and he is not happy. 

Roberts, Clint finds out the man's name is Roberts. Agent Roberts has been with SHEILD for three years, is twenty-nine years old, and has an ego bigger than should be able to fit in the room. Clint finds all this from just listening, watching and listening. That night, when Clint breaks into the security back-logs, he finds every inch of embarrassing footage he can on one Agent Roberts. He strings it all together, plants the footage and a bug in the system, and waits for the time bomb to go off. No one ever claimed that aim and observation were the only things Clint was good at. 

The bug goes off at eight-thirty the next morning. Every recorded detail of everything Roberts has ever been scolded for, every mistake he has ever made within SHEILD, every unwanted pass at a woman, every negative word directed at a superior is broadcast throughout HQ on every television and speaker. Clint is in the briefing room, standing in the doorway, when the bug goes off, watching Roberts scramble around his peers as they absolutely demolish everything he's ever done. When the other man looks around the room and catches his eye, Clint smiles, waves and disappears.

Clint Barton is not a morning person, and no one bothers to inform Tony Stark.


	2. How Tony Stark Learns Exactly What It Means To Be On The Bad Side of Natasha Romanov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or: How Clint Is Sometimes Underestimated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read This!

Clint Barton sits down in the break room with a cup of coffee in his hands and doesn't even get to taste it before the mug is snatched away by a passing Tony Stark.

Clint doesn't even think before his leg snaps out and his foot connects with the back of Stark's knee; he catches the mug with only a little liquid sloshing over the edge. The sharpshooter sips the scalding contents as he watches Stark catch his breath and get up off of the floor. The billionaire turns to him, a shocked look still etched on his face, and says,

"What. The Hell?"

"Don't touch my coffee," is all Clint slurs before righting himself in his seat and ignoring the rest of the room.

The sniper pretends that his sudden movement didn't pull at the still tender flesh around pink, puckered bullet scars.

Natasha appears ten minutes later with a cup of coffee already in her hands and takes a seat next to Clint. Tony, who has, up until this point in time, stayed leaning against the counter on the other side of the room, takes this as all the invitation he needs to occupy the table as well. Natasha raises her eyebrow at the man, but Tony ignores her. Clint thinks that's a stupid idea.

"So, Hawkeye," Tony says. "Can I ask you a question?"

"I will put you on the floor again," Clint says, folding another hand around his mug.

Natasha takes notice of this (like she could actually miss it), and asks, "What? Did you try and touch his coffee?"

Clint 'hmms' and Natasha raises the other eyebrow.

Tony ignores her, again, and continues.

"Is it some kind of fetish, that you get off on other people's clothes? Or do you just get off ‘cause they're ours?"

At eight twenty-three in the morning, Captain Steve Rodgers walks into the break room and is greeted by the sight of one Natasha Romanov launching herself across a table at Tony Stark. Stark goes down surprisingly well for a man being beaten up by a hundred-twenty pound woman, and decides to stay down after she's given his a black eye and a broken nose. Natasha climbs off of him in a huff, gives him a sharp nudge in the ribs that will most probably bruise and takes her seat next to Clint calmly. Steve decides he doesn't want to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked it!


	3. What Do You Think Of A Game Called Attachment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or: How Clint Has Some Underlying Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the reason this took so long is because, when I posted the first chapter it was actually twice as long. Somehow it half-deleted itself, so I've had to spent the last few days trying to recreate what I had written. If this has ever happened to you, you know it just doesn't work like that. So, as I am completely unhappy with this (which really means I freaking hate it and I can't stand it), I hope you still enjoy it.

Phil Coulson has been Clint Barton’s Handler (yes, that gets a capital ‘H’, because it is a title, not just a statement) for eight years, six of those including an actual relationship, and the agent has never seen the man act so, so wrong. Clint is sitting in the corner of his nest with his legs pulled up to his chest, no doubt straining his abdomen, and it strangling (there is no other word for it) one of Phil’s favorite dress shirts. The man looks fine, other than his behavior, doesn’t seem anymore injured than when Phil kissed him goodbye only hours ago.

He stands outside Hawkeye’s territory (and there is a difference between Hawkeye and Clint) until the man says,

“Are you just going to stand there?”

Phil rolls his eyes, toes off his shoes, and steps into the nest, sitting close enough to Clint that they’re pressed arm to arm, leg to leg, inch for inch. Clint has yet to relax his grip on the shirt.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Phil asks, because there is no ‘if’ about it; Clint is bothered.

Clint doesn’t say anything.

“Natasha told me about this morning.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” Clint snaps. 

“What doesn’t bother me?”

“That I steal yours and Nat’s clothes? That I just need something to, to-”

“Clint,” Phil says firmly, resting his hand heavily on the sniper’s wrist.

Phil doesn’t keep speaking until Clint looks at him.

“Why do you think Natasha keeps fresh vials of our blood? Why do you think you both wear one of my old dog tags? Why do you think I have a twenty-four hour GPS dot on both of you?”

“Because we’re all freaks,” Clint says flatly.

“Because we’re all _attached_. We all have our quirks, but we have them for a reason. Natasha keeps our blood because she thinks that someday she might need it, either to find us or to give us a head start on getting away. You both wear my dog tags because somehow you’ve got it into your head that if you can’t prove to yourself that I ever existed, then I never did. I keep a GPS on you both, because I don’t ever want to lose you. 

“You take clothes because they’re ours. Because they prove to you that we belong to you, just as much as you belong to Natasha and I.”

“When do you have time to think about this?” Clint asks.

“Late at night when you won’t come out of the range.”

Clint blushes and says he’s sorry. Phil says he’s not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a commet if you liked it, I suppose.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you liked it!


End file.
